I’m the good Jewish doctor your grandparents always envisioned you would marry.
Well, sort of.
Creative Commons / Tom Magliery
Perhaps they didn’t anticipate that I’d be transgender. My name is Tamar, and I’m a trans*man. I kept my birth name, as feminine as it is, and of which people never cease to ask me about. I kept my name because I love it, it is who I am, and I can’t envision myself being anyone but Tamar.
In good-ol’ Jewish fashion, I was named after deceased relatives, and from an early age was instilled with pride in both the name and its/my heritage. I was born and raised in a Conservative-meets-Reform Jewish household, with separate milk/meat dishes, somewhat regular shul attendance (at least earlier on), and a strong sense of Jewish cultural pride.
My Mom is a progressive, American-born, self-proclaimed Zionist; my Abba, an old-European traditionalist, first-generation Israeli, son of Holocaust survivors. It was an interesting (and confusing, to say the least) childhood, yet helped mold me into the strong, hard-working, morally driven, community-oriented, proud trans*man that I am today.
Being Jewish and being trans* are two huge facets of my identity. I’ve been asked if my trans* identity is at odds with my Jewish identity, and the answer is simple: No. The Judaism that I was raised in focused little on rules and religiosity, and instead focused on strength/resilience, cultural pride, and providing a moral basis for interacting with the world. I was taught the value of family, community, hard-work, and tzedakah. It is this Jewish foundation that drives my work both as a physician and as a trans* activist and educator. I value my chosen-family, trans* community, the folks who paved the way for me, and the folks who will follow after.
My work with the non-profit and upcoming book, Trans Bodies, Trans Selves, encapsulates this pride, thankfulness, celebration, education, and giving spirit. The book is not just a bunch of bound pages, it is documentation of our trans* history, culture, community, and resilience. It is a celebration of any and all trans* and gender nonconforming identities, a celebration of paths already paved and ones just beginning.
It is movement forward. It is never forgetting where we came from, and to where we are going.
